


etch an outline on your heart

by rainbowsandgucci



Category: IT - Stephen King
Genre: Angst, Coming of Age, Domesticity, Existential Angst, First Kiss, Fix-It, Fluff, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, It's unspecified whether or not pennywise happened, M/M, Running Away, Sonia Kaspbrak's A+ Parenting, Teen Angst, Tenderness, They're in LOVE don't let andy mushtitty tell u otherwise, but for maximum angst you can imagine it did
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-21
Updated: 2019-11-21
Packaged: 2021-02-25 20:29:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21509221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainbowsandgucci/pseuds/rainbowsandgucci
Summary: “Hey, Eddie?” Eddie hums in response, and Richie smiles softly down at his own hands. “Do you ever think about, like, running away?”There’s a beat of silence, then a clatter, as Eddie drops something into the sink. Then, Eddie’s feet are in Richie’s line of vision. He looks up, and huffs out a laugh at Eddie’s troubled expression. “What?”
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 15
Kudos: 225





	etch an outline on your heart

**Author's Note:**

> i've been on a the mountain goats kick lately, and i got the line 'we were the one thing in the galaxy god didn't have his eyes on' from 'jenny' stuck on a loop in my brain yesterday, so here we go!
> 
> title from 'going invisible 2' also by the mountain goats
> 
> for nina and em <3333 love u hoes

_June, 1993_

Richie hisses, jerking back from the cloth being pressed against his stinging lip, grabbing at Eddie’s wrist to keep his hand from following as he does.

“_Fuck_ man, that hurts like a bitch.”

Eddie sighs, but doesn’t make a move to pull his arm out of Richie’s grasp. “Fucking _duh_, this is peroxide you idiot.” The hand not being held by Richie comes up to rest on Richie’s shoulder, his body moving closer to Richie’s between his legs, and if Richie weren’t wearing a baggy shirt, he’d be a little more concerned about certain _reactions_ his body might have, pain from his face be damned.

As it is, Richie groans, and glares at Eddie from his place seated on the edge of the bathtub. “Why can’t you just clean it with _water_, like you always have? That at least doesn’t fucking sting.”

He finally lets go of Eddie’s wrist, and Eddie scoffs as he moves it forward again to continue dabbing at the cut. “_Because_, I’m not fucking fourteen anymore, and now that I’ve actually taken some classes, I know that peroxide will clean this shit better than water ever could.”

Like usual, his words are crass, his tone is snippy, but his touch is gentle. The stinging isn’t as bad, now that Richie’s used to it, and he finds himself sighing as he closes his eyes, letting Eddie do his thing. 

After a couple moments of silence, during which Eddie cleans the cuts on his collarbones and forehead as well, Eddie finally sucks in a breath, before quietly breaking the silence. “So, what was it this time?”

Richie shrugs a shoulder, the corner of his lip quirking up in a brief grin when Eddie tsks and pushes it back down as he applies some kind of ointment to a bruise. He’s quiet for a second, the image of his dad’s angry face flashing briefly through his mind, before he shrugs the other shoulder. “Wrong place wrong time I guess; remind me not to walk through the park ever again.” Eddie sighs, his hands stilling. Richie opens his eyes, and is met with a sad expression, one that makes his heart wrench almost painfully. “Eds…” 

Eddie huffs, clearly a nonverbal _don’t call me that_, but continues to give Richie a sharp look. “Rich I—you know you can tell me anything, right?” Richie sighs, his body moving back as rolls his eyes up to look at the ceiling briefly, then back at Eddie.

“Yes Eddie, of course I know that.”

Eddie’s eyebrows furrow, but eventually, he just nods, and whispers a soft, “okay.”

He moves then, away from Richie to begin cleaning up his first aid kit, and as unreasonable as it is, especially in the middle of _June_, Richie feels cold. He knows he’s hurt Eddie’s feelings, for the billionth time in the last couple years since his dad went from not caring about Richie’s existence to caring too much in the wrong fucking way, but he can’t just…

Richie sighs, and leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees and staring down at his hands as he begins fidgeting with the ring on his hand. It’s a silver skull, and he’d gotten it a few months earlier from Bill for his birthday. He doesn’t think he’ll ever take it off.

“Hey, Eddie?” Eddie hums in response, and Richie smiles softly down at his own hands. “Do you ever think about, like, running away?”

There’s a beat of silence, then a clatter, as Eddie drops something into the sink. Then, Eddie’s feet are in Richie’s line of vision. He looks up, and huffs out a laugh at Eddie’s troubled expression. “What?”

Eddie scowls momentarily, before his expression switches to something softer, and he moves to sit next to richie on the tub. “Are you going to?”

Richie blinks. “What, no lecture? No ‘Richie you don’t have any money and you’re only seventeen where will you go’?” Eddie just looks at him, expectantly, and Richie sighs, fidgeting with his ring again as his shoulders slump. “No. I probably won’t.”

“You won’t?”

Eddie sounds...surprised, and Richie smiles as he looks at him again. “Nah, ‘s just nice to think about sometimes, y’know?”

Eddie shrugs. “I dunno, sounds terrifying. Just, leaving. Not knowing where you’re going. Doesn’t that scare you?”

Richie scoffs. “It’s not any scarier than staying here, waiting to either get pushed off a bridge by someone who hates me or get beaten to death by my dad.” He realizes, seconds after it’s out of his mouth, what he’s just admitted to, and he swallows before continuing, “If—If I’m gonna fucking die because God or anyone else doesn’t care enough to look out for me, may as well do it away from this stupid fucking town, right?”

He’s looking down at his hands again, his breathing shaky, his hands trembling slightly, and he’s surprised when Eddie’s hand rests over his own. He shouldn’t be though, not when it comes to Eddie.

“Rich do you…” He pauses, then, whispers softly, “You really think that? Think no one cares?”

Richie sucks in a breath, then shrugs, turning his hand so he can grab Eddie’s, beginning to play with his fingers. “No one that can do anything about...everything.” After a bit, he turns to look at Eddie, and gives him a soft smile. “Either way, I think I might be the only person God doesn’t have his eyes on.”

Eddie stares at him a moment, before giving him a determined look, and grabbing his hand in a tight hold. “Well. Fuck him then, you don’t need him.”

Richie’s smile grows, and he rubs his thumb over the back of Eddie’s hand. “Why? ‘Cuz I got you babe?”

As he says it, the sweet little pet name he’s never dared to use before, his heart is _thundering_. Eddie bites at his lip, then nods. “Yeah Rich, you got me.”

The smile slowly fades from Richie’s lips, replaced with a serious expression. “Eds…”

Eddie sucks in a breath, his grip on Richie’s hand tightening. “Richie I—”

Richie kisses him.

Doesn’t take a deep breath beforehand, doesn’t build up to it, doesn’t work up the courage to do it. Just. Leans in, interrupting Eddie even though he _knows_ he hates that, and kisses the lips he’s been staring at for fucking _years_ now, _finally_.

Eddie kisses back. After sucking in a surprised breath through his nose, he kisses back with just as much desperation and pure fucking _need_ as Richie is kissing him with. 

They’re still clutching each other’s sweaty hands, Richie’s lip is definitely going to be even more sore after this, they’re still in Eddie’s bathroom, and it’s so fucking _perfect_, so fucking _theirs_. Richie doesn’t think he’s ever felt this high in his fucking life.

When they finally pull away, it’s not far. Richie’s free hand has moved to rest on Eddie’s hip, something he’s only just now realizing he’s been doing for _years_, like it’s his spot. With a grin, he rests his forehead against Eddie’s, and realizes that maybe, just maybe, it is his spot. His spot, on _his _Eddie. 

He feels giddy.

Eddie lets out a little giggle, and Richie realizes he might be feeling just as giddy as Richie is. 

“Was that good baby?”

Eddie lets out another giggle, and brings a hand up to rest on Richie’s cheek as he lets out a content sigh. “Yeah Richie, it was really fucking good.” 

Richie licks his lips. “Can I do it again?”

Eddie huffs, amused, and instead of answering, kisses Richie like there’s nothing in the world he’d rather be doing.

-

_January, 1994_

Richie is passed out on the couch after a long day of work, the TV playing reruns of episodes of _The Tonight Show_, a blanket on his feet and his glasses on the floor, when he’s woken abruptly by the shrill sound of the phone ringing.

He sits bolt upright, confused for a brief moment, before he realizes exactly what woke him up and he rushes to answer. He leans against the wall as he picks up, still rubbing the sleep out of his eyes and trying to tune out the sound of Johnny Carson monologuing as he croaks out a “h’llo?”

On the other end, there’s a quiet sniff, and immediately, Richie feels more awake. “Were you asleep? I didn’t mean to wake you up, just wasn’t sure if your parents were...” 

Richie shakes his head, shifting so he’s leaning back against he wall. “It’s fine, I was asleep on the couch. Is everything okay?”

There’s a beat of silence, then, “Can I come over?”

Eddie sounds...he sounds like he always does when he’s trying not to cry. Richie wants to burn the fucking world down whenever he sounds like that.

“Of course you can Eds, come in the front door.”

Eddie sniffs again. “Okay, I’m leaving as soon as I hang up.”

“Okay, I love you.”

“Love you too.”

Eddie hangs up, then, and Richie stares off into space for a second before jumping into action. It only takes Eddie five minutes to skateboard from his place to Richie’s, plus the two minutes it’ll take him to climb out his window quietly enough that his mom doesn’t notice, so that really limits his time to prepare.

Luckily, his parents are gone for the weekend, probably at a casino or something, so Richie grabs the blanket he knows Eddie loves from his bedroom, turns on The Sandlot for background noise, and waits anxiously.

When Eddie finally shows up, he comes through the front door like Richie said to, though still quietly, out of habit. Richie’s waiting for him in the kitchen, and when he takes in his face, his heart breaks.

He’s not crying, won’t let himself quite yet, but he looks so fucking _sad_, so defeated and just _tired_, and Richie fucking hates it. Eddie’s eyes meet his, beautiful in the pale light coming from the light over the sink, and as soon as they do, they well up with tears.

“_Baby_…” Richie says softly, and the next second, he’s got Eddie wrapped in his arms as he cries quietly, his shoulders shaking with it.

Richie holds Eddie as he cries. Rubs his back with one hand, cradles the back of his head with the other, presses kisses onto the top of his head. He lets him let go, like he only ever does around Richie, and when he finally calms a bit, guides him into the living room and onto the couch; gets him to drink some water then wraps them up in blankets and _then_ gets Eddie settled back safely into Richie’s arms.

Eventually, Richie presses a kiss to Eddie’s forehead, then rests his cheek there. “Did you and your mom...?”

Eddie sighs, and nods into Richie’s chest. “Yeah. She threatened to—to find a way to keep me here, keep me from _leaving_. Said some shit about...locking me in my room, or in the basement or—or something I don’t—” He sucks in a breath, and Richie rubs his back comfortingly. “She said something about me getting _married_ Richie, wants to set me up with someone probably just as bad as she is and I’m never gonna fucking _escape_ she’s never going to let me fucking _go_ I can’t—” He inhales sharply, like he’s fighting for it, and the sound _jerks_ Richie into action, getting Eddie sat up and helping him through a breathing exersise, instead of using an inhaler.

He’d smashed his last one, the summer before he’d turned sixteen, and had refused to carry one since, even though he still occasionally has panic attacks (usually because of his mother).

Eddie Kaspbrak is the bravest, _strongest_ person Richie will ever know, and he loves him so fucking much it hurts.

Eddie gets his breath back relatively quickly, used to the breathing techniques that Ben and Stan had spent an entire afternoon researching by now, and probably comforted by Richie talking him through it.

When they’re finally settled again, Eddie sideways in Richie’s lap, he looks up at Richie, an absolutely miserable look on his face. 

“What am I gonna _do,_ Richie?”

Richie squeezes his thigh, and gives him a comforting look. “You’re gonna get the fuck out of here Eddie, _that’s_ what you’re gonna do.” He leans forward, and presses a quick kiss to Eddie’s cheek. “Your mom can try all she fucking wants, she’s not going to trap you here. None of the others will let it happen, you won’t let it happen, and I _definitely_ won’t let it happen.”

Eddie sighs, and rests his head on Richie’s shoulder after moment. “You really think I can do it? Leave her? She’s...she’s my _mom_ Richie.”

Richie nods, and grabs Eddie’s hand. “I know that, and I’m not saying it’s going to be easy but...you can do it baby. You’re, _fuck_ Eds, you’re the strongest person I know. If you can’t make it out of here then there’s no hope for the rest of us losers.”

Eddie rolls his eyes, “don’t call me that, asshole.”

Richie grins, and sticks his tongue out at him. “You love it.”

Eddie smiles back, and reaches up to poke Richie’s cheek, laughing when Richie licks his finger before he can. “I love _you_.”

Richie grabs his finger, and presses a kiss to his fingertip. “I love you too.”

They lapse into silence, finally turning their attention to the movie on the TV. After a few minutes though, Eddie turns to look up at Richie again. “Hey, babe?”

Richie hums, his attention drawn back to Eddie. “Yeah?”

Eddie bites his lip. “If there’s a God, I don’t think he’s looking out for me either.”

Richie stares at him a moment, confused, before realization hits, and instead, he gives Eddie a sad smile. “Well,” he squeezes Eddie’s hand, “that’s fine, ‘cuz you’ve got me babe.”

Eddie squeezes back, a soft smile on his face as well. “Don’t need God if I have you.”

Richie huffs out a laugh. “Damn right.”

-

_August, 1994_

Richie shifts his truck into park, smiling smugly to himself as he does it without any grinding sounds. He’s had the truck for a few months now, even though literally all of his friends had seemed dubious at the idea of their Trashmouth owning a stick shift, but, after some trial and error, he thinks he’s finally got it. 

He checks the time on his watch, then begins fiddling with the radio. Normally, he’s listening to the talk show on the rock station at this time, but it’s _date night_, so instead, he’s putting in a new mixtape. No one can _ever_ say that Richie Tozier isn’t romantic.

Eddie climbs into his truck at exactly nine on the dot, just like he does every Tuesday night, and Richie _melts_ when he sees him (because, like Richie had said when they were thirteen, he’s _cute cute cute_), just like he does every time he sees him.

He waits for Eddie to shut the door—it takes a little extra _oomph_, since one of the hinges needs to be replaced—and get settled in, then leans in for a kiss. Eddie leans in as well, as eager as always, and they spend a moment like that, taking comfort in each other’s presence, parked at the end of a dark road a few blocks from Eddie’s house.

There’s no one around but them, and for all they’re concerned, they’re the only people in the world who matter.

Eventually, they do separate, though their hands stayed clasped. Eddie sighs, settling back into his seat, and Richie grins. “So, it seems like the truck is finally growing on you.”

Eddie scoffs. “Don’t flatter yourself or this deathtrap, I’m just tired and it feels nice to sit down.”

Even as he says it, there’s a hint of a smile on his face, and Richie knows better than to believe him. He laughs, reluctantly pulling his hand from Eddie’s so he can shift into drive. “You’re full of shit Eds.” He glances over at Eddie, who’s giving him an amused look, and smirks. “My baby loves my other baby.”

Eddie huffs, clearly fighting laughter, and shakes his head. “Shut the fuck up oh my _god_ Rich.”

Richie just laughs, and drives the rest of the way out to the quarry with just the mixtape playing in the background. Eddie turns it up eventually, when _keep on loving you_ begins to play, and Richie just smiles to himself because he just _knew_ he’d do that.

When they reach the quarry, they get a blanket laid out in the bed of the truck, and Richie pulls a bottle of wine he’d managed to sneak from his mom’s stash out of the cooler he’d had stashed in the back seat. Eddie’s got a few containers of snacks for them to share, a couple old pillows, and, because this is their _routine_ now, they’re all set up in a matter of minutes.

A couple hours later, they’ve gone from sitting and drinking wine, to laying down, a nice buzz built up from the combination of good wine and each other’s company. Richie’s flat on his back—even though Eddie had protested because he _knows_ that’ll hurt his back—with Eddie’s head resting on his chest. Richie’s running his fingers through his curls, as Eddie tells him a story about a lady who had come into the diner he works at earlier in the day.

Richie is...he’s so fucking content. It feels good to be here; Eddie in his arms, staring up at the stars, and acting like he doesn’t have a care in the world.

Which, sadly, is _not_ the case.

And Eddie, because he _knows _Richie, probably better than he knows himself, notices.

“Hey, is everything okay? You’re being really quiet tonight.”

Richie huffs out a laugh, curling one of Eddie’s curls around his finger. “Boy aren’t we perceptive?”

Eddie snorts, and pokes at Richie’s stomach. “Don’t try to distract me, what’s the matter?”

With a sigh, Richie shifts slightly. “I fought with my parents earlier.”

Immediately, Eddie sits up, his eyebrows furrowed as his eyes trail down from Richie’s face to his neck, to the exposed skin of his arms. He’s looking for bruises, scratches, any kind of mark he may have missed—as if he _would_—and Richie has to smile.

“Nothing happened baby, I promise, just some yelling and shit.”

Eddie lets out a breath, a huge, _relieved_ one, and nods. Then, instead of lying back down, he moves so he’s pressed up against Richie again, but still sitting up, his legs criss-crossed and one of his arms resting on Richie’s stomach lightly. Then, he shrugs one shoulder. “What did you fight about?”

Richie rests a hand on Eddie’s. “It was mostly my mom I guess, a lot of the same shit as usual. She hates me, my dad thinks I’m useless, it’s…” He sighs, feeling tired. “It fucking _sucks_ Eddie, I don’t know how much longer I can…” He trails off, unable to finish the thought.

Eddie gives his hand a comforting squeeze, and Richie finds himself smiling, just a little bit.

After a few minutes of silence, Eddie takes a deep breath. “I fought with my mom today too.”

Richie frowns. “Yeah?”

Eddie nods, his gaze drifting down to their hands, where he’s fidgeting with Richie’s ring, spinning it like Richie himself does a lot of the time. “Yeah. I...she wants me to go on a date with this girl—”

Richie sits up so fast, he feels dizzy for a second. “She _what_?!”

Eddie laughs, though it’s humorless and mostly just _helpless_. “She wants me to go on a date with this _girl_ she knows, thinks she’s _perfect for me_, and that we’d be a good fucking match. Might even get _married _some day.”

He spits the word out like it’s fucking _poison_, and Richie grabs his hand so hard it has to hurt, and blurts out, “We need to leave.”

Eddie looks up at him then, his eyes wide. He’s going to argue, Richie knows, and maybe he’s right to, because they’re both barely graduated, Eddie’s not even fucking eighteen for another month yet, and they don’t have _near_ enough funds to make it on their own comfortably, but he’s _determined._

By the time Eddie opens his mouth, Richie’s already got fifteen counter-arguments ready and prepared, but instead, Eddie just says, “You’re right.”

Richie blinks. “I am?”

Eddie laughs softly, but nods. “_Yeah_ you are for once. Let’s...let’s do it Rich, let’s run away together.”

Richie swallows, his heart racing. “Eds I’m—are you sure? I mean, I know shit’s bad but I don’t want you to like, regret anything if we—”

Eddie _kisses_ him, shutting him up the only way he knows will definitely work, and then, eyes fully meeting Richie’s, nods. “Yes babe, I’m absolutely, one hundred percent positive I want this. Let’s fucking ditch this shithole.”

Richie laughs, kisses Eddie, his hands cradling either side of Eddie’s face, then pulls back again, one of his thumbs rubbing gentle circles into Eddie’s cheek as he smiles so fucking wide his cheeks actually hurt. “Anything you want baby, anything you fucking want, I swear.”

Eddie giggles. “I love you.”

Richie kisses his nose. “I love you too.”

-

After a lot of stressful and secret packing, several tearful goodbyes with the rest of the losers, and an incredibly _long_ five days, Richie finds himself tossing the last of Eddie’s boxes into the back of his truck. Mike tightens one of the come-along’s he and Stan had gifted them two days prior, and after Richie’s slammed the tailgate shut, he pulls him into a tight hug.

“Thanks man, I don’t think we could’ve done this without you.”

When they pull away, Mike’s grinning, his eyes a little misty, and he claps Richie’s shoulder. “Don’t even think about it Rich, I’m just glad you two are finally getting out of here.”

Richie smiles back, but before he can reply, Eddie rounds the truck, Stan and Bill next to him, and well. They’ve known each other for years, but more often than not, Eddie still manages to take Richie’s breath away.

Eddie gives Richie a nervous smile. “All ready to go?”

Richie nods. “Yep, whenever you’re ready, boss.”

Beside Eddie, Stan scoffs, and moves forward to pull Richie into a hug. “Don’t fucking forget to call, dickwad.”

Richie laughs, though it’s shakier than he’d like, and buries his face in Stan’s shoulder. “Wouldn’t _dream_ of it Manley.”

Next, Bill pulls Richie into a hug, and Richie knows _why_ they’re leaving, probably wouldn’t stay if he was _paid_, espsecially knowing the others are going to be leaving for college soon anyway, but god, he didn’t think this would be so fucking _hard_.

Eventually, after some more tears, a couple more threats to stay in contact _or else_, Richie and Eddie both climb into the truck, and finally, _finally_, head out of Derry.

It’s quiet at first, even with the radio playing softly, and they’re both _tense_ for some reason, but as soon as they pass the ‘_Thanks for visiting Derry, come again soon!’_ sign, they both let out a relieved breath, and just like magic, they suddenly feel like a weight has been lifted.

The opening notes of _Livin’ on a prayer _come on the radio, and a slow and lazy smile stretches out over Richie’s face as he reaches to turn it up.

Eddie grins, then, as he turns to look at Richie, his hair blowing from the wind coming in the cracked window. He looks like everything Richie will ever need. “You think God’ll start paying attention to us now?”

Richie smiles at him, and he can’t see himself, he knows it’s _tender_ and he’s so in fucking love he could _scream_. “Nah baby, we’re the one thing in the fucking galaxy that God doesn’t have his eyes on.”

Eddie laughs, and he sounds _free_, for the first time in his life, and Richie reaches across the center console, grabs his hand, and it’s _perfect_. 

It’s fucking _theirs_.

**Author's Note:**

> [rebloggable post!](https://queereightiesheartthrob.tumblr.com/post/189275637955/etch-an-outline-on-your-heart-4k-hey-eddie)


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